What the Children See
by Brave-Phoenix
Summary: It was ironic, that in this picture her smile was so wide her eyes had to close to make room for it. Probably because the only time he'd ever seen her, she'd been crying.


_**Disclaimer:**__ No rights to Naruto here. I promise._

_**Note:**__ O. M. G. Wow. It's been like, a while, hasn't it? Since I posted something Naruto. Well, enjoy. It's got a teeny-tiny pairing hint that you'd have to squint to see, but hey, have at it._

**What the Children See**

_20FacesChizu_

He remembered her from a long time ago. Long before he'd gotten in to the Academy. He hadn't known her name until now.

Sakura showed him the medical report, her analysis of the poison in the corpse falling on ears that would record it to the back of his mind for now, until he could process it later. A mechanical "thank you" issued from his lips as he turned away from the medic, walking down the halls.

_Tatewaki…_ _Shiho_.

Age 32, standing 4' 11" apparently, which was shorter than he remembered. Her hair was a sweet, cocoa brown, and there was a streak of bright green running down the left side, which fell playfully over her eyes that were squeezed shut to make room for an enormous smile. It may have been her ID photo, but she still looked so cheerful that it was ironic. Especially since the only time he'd ever met her, she'd been crying…

* * *

Children of Konohagakure are raised with a great respect for their elders. Those elders, as they die, pass on the Will of Fire- the strong will to protect the village, and to protect others. Admittedly, how the adults would have the children clean the headstones in the graveyard (which expanded by day, rather than month or year), was thought by many of his peers as more than a little unfair, since the space was simply so _huge_. He himself would rather be dozing off while counting the clouds or playing with his friend Chouji. He scrubbed absent-mindedly at a marble headstone, and took a small brush to clean meticulously inside the characters that spelled out a name. One in a million. Or at least one of the three-hundred and twenty-seven sites he would be responsible for today.

_Kou… Sei… ran? Weird name_.

The grave wasn't that old. By the date, he'd only died about a week ago; it'd been Christmas Eve, and Shikamaru thought that it was slightly regrettable, since he hadn't gotten to get his presents, if someone had bought him something. And 17 was awfully young to be leaving the world. That was only ten years older than he was now.

He stood up, about to take his bucket and dump the cleaning water, but he unexpectedly collided with someone. His inexperienced hand dropped the bucket, and cold, soapy water washed over their toes.

"I- I'm sorry!"

"It's… fine."

Her hesitant, distant, quiet answer distracted him away from his mistake, and his eyes moved up to the stranger's face. It was pale, and drawn, and there were dark circles under her eyes that looked practically purple as they mixed with the redness that showed she'd been crying. She offered a withering smile that did not reach her vacant eyes.

"What's… your name?" It was almost so quiet he missed it, but as he cleared away his cleaning tools, he answered.

"Shikamaru. Nara Shikamaru." And by the time he turned around, he was surprised to see her kneeling in the sopping grass before the grave he'd only just finished cleaning. "What's your name?"

She didn't answer. Her hands held together as she prayed, that wisp of a smile already gone… He looked at her and wondered. He'd been outside the village a couple of times, and had heard the saying- "old soul." Someone who had seen more than their generation, and aged with its knowledge. Though he knew civilians hated shinobi, and despised them as killers, their children that would grow up like them were pitied, and called by such a saying.

He could understand it, looking at her.

"Kou… Seiran? Was he your boyfriend?" The glassy brown eyes turned to him, her hands still pressed together in supplement. He gathered up a little courage, and knelt down in the grass beside her, offering a small, silent prayer of his own. When he looked back up, her eyes had not left him.

"You must've liked him a lot." No reaction. He hesitated a little. He felt responsible, just a little, for her looking like this, even though he didn't know who she was, and he was just as likely as not to never meet her again. So he stood, and wrung out the legs of his pants where they'd soaked up water, and squelched over to his bucket and things, gathering them up before turning back to look at her. Her gaze was still on him.

"I'm sure Kou-san wouldn't have wanted you fluttering through graveyards like a ghost, oneechan. You'll make him sad if you stay like this too long."

* * *

He'd been seven, and according to the medical report, she would've been only 16. But he could still remember what happened after he said that.

A spark. And then… sparkle.

Within the span of fifteen seconds, she seemed to turn a healthier color, and her brown eyes had gone from a dull, dirt-like color to something that looked like a mixture of cinnamon and honey. He'd been bewildered. For the two minutes he'd known her, she'd been like a dead woman, and then… She'd gotten up, and ignored her soiled kimono as she walked past him towards the gate. And just before she entered its shadow, she'd turned to him.

And this, looking at this very picture, he knew. It was that same smile.

"Shikamaru, was this someone you knew?" Ino stood up on tip-toe to look over his shoulder, one arm draping around his neck and the other reaching down to angle the folder towards her so she could see. He looked at her from the corner of his eye.

"No. Not really."

* * *

**AN: Inspired by Shippuuden episode 80-something. I think it was 83. Shika-tachi go to visit Asuma's grave before leaving Konoha, and there are some little kids there cleaning. It was just kinda... "What do they see? What sort of feelings might occur?" Sort of feeling. Anywhosit, tell me if you want a sequel from Shiho's point of view.**

**Review onegai~**


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